


Before the Storm

by ZeroTheAngel



Category: RWBY
Genre: (maybe), (only a little bit so far), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroTheAngel/pseuds/ZeroTheAngel
Summary: As Team RWBY learn under the Ace Ops and ready themselves to become fully fledged Huntresses, Qrow continues his work in Atlas, dealing with his own issues. Fighting to be sober, Qrow finds comfort in Clover and his support, as the world begins to fall apart.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72





	1. On a Moonlit Night

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a fic centering around FairGame for a while now, and after posting a oneshot, its just built from there. While I'm sad about Clover's fate in the show, I really did love V7 and all of Qrow's development, so that's gonna be the main focus. That being said, this is probably gonna shift the canon a bit, and have a lengthier time between the events in V7 to give me some wiggle room, and depending on how the fic goes, I might think about turning it to an AU and adjusting the end of V7.

It was so cold that Qrow could have sworn he was going to freeze something off. Even with the blanketing presence of his Aura, Qrow could feel the sharp sting of the frosty Solitas wind biting at his skin. With his nieces and their friends training with the Ace Ops, Qrow was left with various Huntsman jobs around Solitas. In some ways it was thankful that Atlas and Mantle were the only proper settlements in Solitas, it meant that he wasn’t expected to stake out villages, instead going out to eradicate Grimm that pop up around various installations outside of Mantle. The snow-covered forests of Solitas were travelled to frequently by woodcutters, but the tight knit spires of wood were the perfect hiding place for Beowolves, or even worse. Many mines owned by the Schnee Dust Company and other lesser known mining operations often become infested with Centinels and given enough time, Geist have been known to make their homes there, as Qrow well knew after their first proper job with the Ace Ops.

Qrow stretched his arms up over his head, the strain enough to make his bones groan in protest. Qrow glanced back over his shoulder at the transport that drove him out to the thick expanse of trees that made up the Snowbound Forest. His own transport. A perk of working directly under James Ironwood and his army of tin cans.

“Um, sir! I thought you said that your partner would be catching up with us!” A poor young troop, not one of Ironwood’s chosen circle, spoke with panic clear in his voice as he climbed out of the car. He shivered immediately, his boots crunching through snow.

“I lied. I work alone, but most Huntsmen tend to disagree with that, and frankly, it’s just tiring. Stay in the car, you have my Scroll to contact, keep warm.” The young man was no Huntsman and trying to argue with Qrow Branwen would have given even the most senior of Huntsmen a headache. He didn’t get a response, only the click of the car door, and a hint of resentment thrown his way. Resentment might be a bit too strong, but he was used to it by now.

Drawing Harbinger from the small of his back, Qrow made his way past the first few spattering of trees that threaten to encroach on the poorly maintained roads that led out towards the forest. With every step, the trees became less sporadic and more tightknit, the snow becoming shallower as he went. The quiet crunch of white under foot kept him on edge, it was enough to draw out a more aggressive Grimm, and he quietly hoped it would. It was always easier to have the Grimm come to him rather than hunt through a forest. Hunting for Grimm was much easier than hunting for animals, you could feel when a Grimm was nearby. It’s not enough to effectively track a Grimm, but the unsettling feeling of being near one of the creatures of Grimm was noticeable.

Qrow reached a clearing within the forest, the grass pale green and tinged with thin sheets of snow in various spots. A low growl broke the tranquil silence of the forest, so he unfurled Harbinger, the blade segmenting and spreading apart into a curved blade, his hilt extending out into a long staff. With his blade now a scythe, he crouched ever so slightly, both hands holding the hilt. From the darkness, deeper in the forest, Beowolves charged forward, feral roars piercing his ears. From a quick glance, at least five had charged out from the dark, and based on the snarling behind him that caused his hair to stand on end, there were a few more ready to leap into the fray.

The first Beowolf reached him, and with a graceful upwards swing, it was dead, sliced in two as its body evaporated, flaky black particles drifting upwards. Not getting a moments rest, the other four dived into the fight, and Qrow happily charged in. Adjusting his grasp, he held the hilt against his lower back, kicking off of a fallen log, up into the air before spinning, unleashing a whirlwind of blade on the unlucky beasts that had attempted to kill him, Harbinger’s blade slicing clean through them as if it was gliding through water, not hardened carapace. Qrow slid to a stop, adjusting his stance yet again as the movement behind him grew louder.

Harbinger quickly shrunk in his grasp, reverting to its sword form. The blade shifted at an angle as he raised the weapon like a pistol, opening fire as Beowolves leapt out from the path he’d taken. Regular gunfire was often ineffective against Grimm, which is why Huntsmen would carry weapons that were a mixture of melee and ranged, to finish off weaker Grimm if the Huntsman required to make some space between them. Thankfully, the ballistics part of Harbinger had high calibre bullets, and a single shot through a Beowolf’s skull was enough to kill it. He managed to fell two of the approaching creatures, stepping out the way of a swing before drawing his blade up, swiping it through another Beowolf.

The flow of combat continued to run in Qrow’s favour until the real threat reared its particularly ugly head. As a Beringel erupted out past the treeline, splinters of wood and sawdust following in its wake, Qrow lost his footing. It turned out to be an odd mix of his usual misfortune, with a stroke of luck. Falling flat on his ass allowed him to avoid the clump of rock and dirt that the ape-like Grimm had sent towards him. Rolling back to his feet, he returned Harbinger to its scythe form, lunging forward. Fighting a Beringel was never a fun experience, even for more foolhardy Huntsmen, not only was it unbelievably durable, it could dish out damage too. With the frigid temperatures of Solitas’ wilds, he didn’t want to take any unnecessary hits and risk being frozen solid on his way home.

The Beringel lifted its arms, clasping its fists together to slam downwards. Qrow was faster, easily avoiding the initial attack, using the opening to unleash a flurry of scythe swings to the Beringel’s legs. From his experience with the hulking creatures, slowing them down was of prime importance. Despite their size, these Grimm were deceptively quick. After a few swipes, he moved, avoiding the swing that came his way. He danced around the beast, slicing and shooting with every opening, urging the Beringel into a furious rage. It gave up on any idea of being careful, instead swinging wildly with reckless abandon. Using it to his advantage, Qrow ducked and weaved his way through each attack, countering with his own savage swings, until the beast punched forward, its arm digging into the earth where Qrow had been. Slipping past the attack, he brought his scythe under the beasts’ neck, snug as a noose as he ran up its back, using the creature as a springboard, bringing Harbinger with him in its execution, the dark particles fading away.

“Impressive work.” The source of his luck finally decided to speak up.

“I thought you were Ironwood’s right hand, not his spymaster.” Sourly, Qrow turned, folding Harbinger down into its compact form, placing it on the small of his back.

Clover’s chuckle ghosted out of him like a warm summer breeze, swirling around the cold Huntsman. “I’m here to make sure the General doesn’t start asking questions. I imagine that’d piss you off even more than having a partner for these missions labelled for a Huntsman _team_.” Hearing the emphasis on his last word, he felt Clover’s teal-green eyes following his movements.

“Well, I’ll owe ya a drink.” Qrow paused, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he gazed at the clearing. He coughed, covering his mouth before turning away, facing Clover properly now. “Doesn’t matter. Jobs done, lets head back.”

“Qrow. I know you’re not one to talk about… Well, anything. But you’re not on your own anymore.” Qrow brushed past the Ace Operative, brushed past his kind words, and kept moving.

“Let’s go, I’m freezing.” He didn’t hear a sigh of disappointment, or a backhanded comment, the only noise that followed him was the steady crunch of snow that mirrored his own. Lapdog through and through.

“I’m not going to drop this, you know. I won’t push you, its your business, but I’m not just going to stop.” Maybe not. Qrow glanced to his side as Clover caught up. Even in this weather, the Ace Operative refused to forsake his style, wearing his sleeveless variant of the Ace Ops uniform, the red and blue accents to his outfits allowing him to stand out against the pale white backdrop of the forest. His insignia, a four-leaf clover sheltered by a horseshoe was emblazoned proudly on his chest in the form of a pin, the subtle glint of the metal showing it had been polished recently.

“Clover. I appreciate this and all, but I’m tired, I’m covered in grime, and I need a coffee.” Qrow’s deadpan cut through Clover’s optimism easier than Harbinger would, the veteran Huntsman stuffing his hands in his pockets in a vague attempt to keep warm, despite his sleeves being rolled up. Despite his curt responses, Clover seemed unperturbed, keeping up pace.

“Alright fine, but at least let me take you out for some food when we’re back, isolating yourself isn’t healthy.” Clover’s words hid no intentions, and it was clear he had no ulterior motive, yet still, Qrow’s heart beat a little a faster. The insinuation itself was enough to make his heart race, listening to Clover speak.

There was a crucial flaw in Qrow’s rude dismissals of Clover’s attempts to keep him positive, Clover was so damn resilient against his pessimism that he might as well just give up now. A life of good luck versus a life of bad luck.

“Well if you’re not going to give up, I don’t see any reason to argue.” Qrow had a hint of a smile on his face as he spoke, though decidedly kept his eyes anywhere but Clover. After the bumpy start in their friendship on the streets of Mantle, he and Clover had grown closer, their friendship blossoming into a quiet camaraderie they’d share on missions, whenever Qrow was forced into working alongside the other Huntsmen in Ironwood’s retinue.

Clover’s boundless positivity was enough to draw anyone in, to be fair, but it was difficult for Qrow to admit that he was drawn in, he had spent a long time on his own, with minimal contact with others. Even the last few months had been spent surrounded by kids he felt he needed to protect, only getting some relief from his adult duties by Maria joining their group, but even then, he was still the one bearing the burden of looking after trainees in a bid to rid the world of a dangerous, immortal psychopath.

“Great, you’ve been working hard lately, and everyone deserves a night off. I’m pretty sure the General is planning to give the teams the night off for the election next week, he won’t mind if you get yours a little early.” Clover’s words were relaxed, yet Qrow felt tense. The idea of going out with Clover, even in such an innocent context, he wasn’t sure he was quite ready for. Their conversations often veered towards his less healthy tendencies, and it gave him pause whenever he felt the urge to talk to Clover.

“The kids have been working harder than me, that’s for sure.” He said, managing a light chuckle to keep the conversation flowing comfortably, following the path through the forest back towards the car. “But thanks. I’ll get all my work stuff dealt with and get cleaned up when I’m back, then we can meet up for dinner I guess?” Making sure his words were casual was an actual challenge, more so than his previous fight had been. It wasn’t a date, even if Clover intended it to be, it wasn’t.

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll show you that Atlas isn’t that bad.” Clover’s smile was radiant. Qrow did his best not to roll his eyes. Once out of the forest, and out of the intimate scenario with Clover, he surveyed the snowscape, still only seeing one vehicle.

“Were you hiding in the back of our truck?” Qrow asked, raising an eyebrow. “I could claim you’re stalking me.”

Clover laughed, heading to the side of the truck, opening up the door. “In your dreams.” Qrow didn’t bother to supress his eye roll this time, following behind, climbing into the truck after the other Huntsman.

Hours later, Qrow was stood in front of a mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He was wearing the attire he’d been gifted in Atlas, though swapped out his white shirt for a smarter black shirt. His body felt much lighter without Harbinger on his back, and it wasn’t a comforting feeling. The sun had long since set on the city of Atlas, and the fractured moon shone down on the city, bathing it in an ethereal glow.

After arriving back at the academy, Qrow checked in on Ruby, Yang and her team, before heading straight to his room. As a former professor at Signal Academy, and a Huntsman in good standing, he was given his own quarters. They were minimalist and modern, not really all that inviting, but the bed was comfortable, and the en suite bathroom with his own shower was a godsend, so he’d hardly complain. It was temporary, and he didn’t exactly have oodles of personal effects to decorate with anyway, so it worked for him.

A long nap and a lengthy shower later, Qrow had gotten dressed up. Pietro had been kind enough to help him out with a new outfit, but other than some slight variations to the base look, it was all much and such the same. He ran a hand through his hair, pale red eyes reflecting back at him through the mirror. A gentle knock sounded out at his door. Qrow resisted the urge to take Harbinger with him, and made his way over to the door, opening it up to Clover’s smiling face waiting for him.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you out of your gear.” Qrow commented as he looked him up and down. Clover was wearing simple blue jeans, a black belt around his waist, a sleeveless white shirt covering his chest with a waistcoat similar to Qrow’s own over the top of it, though instead of Qrow’s plain grey waistcoat, Clover’s was navy blue, emblazoned with various vines, sprouting four leaf clovers. “Are you allergic to sleeves?” Qrow’s joking often came off as cruel, but Clover’s grin only widened, raising his arms to flex jokingly.

“Why would I hide these guns?” Clover said. Qrow’s amusement grew, a chuckle escaping as he started to leave the room. Clover stepped back, allowing him some space before gesturing to the corridor. “After you, sir.” Clover said politely, waiting for Qrow to pass before following alongside.

“You’re an interesting one Clover.” It was a casual enough comment, but deep beneath it, he really meant it. While he wasn’t disillusioned with their fight against Salem, he felt that their time in Atlas could be going faster, that they needed to figure out their plan sooner rather than later. Clover was the one thing keeping him from pushing for a faster resolution. Every time they spoke, he felt himself opening up to Clover, something he hadn’t done in a long time.

“I’ll choose to take that one as a compliment.” Clover hummed as they walked.

The trip out of the academy and down to the city was quick enough. Much to Qrow’s surprise, they didn’t go to a fancy restaurant frequented by Atlas’ elites, they stopped by a marketplace tucked away near the residential side of Atlas, surrounding a small park. He was even more surprised to see such greenery in the city, the park itself had trees similar to the pines that made up the Snowbound Forest, a winding path leading through the heart of the grassy area. It was impeccably maintained, and even the street vendors stalls were pristine, nothing surprising there. Clover took him to a stall that was so laden with spices native to Mistral that he almost keeled over, ordering them both a box of noodles slathered in a warming, spicy sauce, fresh crunchy vegetables sliced matchstick thin and flash fried over the top.

Once they had gathered up their dinner for the night, they took a slow walk through the park, following the winding cobblestone path, beams of silvery moonlight drifting down through the leaves. “So… I’ll admit, I was surprised that we didn’t go to a restaurant.” Qrow broke the silence, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the tingle of spice on his lips. He stirred the contents of the box with his chopsticks, looking over at Clover.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you don’t seem like the type to enjoy restaurants.” Clover said, not sounding judgemental, just thoughtful. Qrow’s heart swelled yet again.

“I remember getting blind drunk at a restaurant with Jimmy, had to call Oz to help drag me home.” Bringing up his drinking always shot a bolt of shame through him, remembering his time at Brunswick, and the fact he could have died happily surrounded by booze if Ruby hadn’t managed to snap him out of it.

“You and the General at dinner? I find that hard to imagine.” Clover said with an amused chuckle. Qrow glanced away, feeling the teal eyes following him as he avoided the gaze. “Oh. You and the General, in general?” He asked. Over ten years ago, something that ended mutually, and with no hard feelings, yet still something he didn’t tend to bring up, even to friends.

“What, surprised I like men too?” Qrow asked, looking back over.

“No, just surprised it was a military man.” Clover said, a pointed look at Qrow, no doubt making a point of his problem with authority and general lack of respect for Atlas’ military. Qrow was mid noodle, and had to cough to avoid choking, followed by laughter. Clover’s smile grew at the sight, going back to eating his own.

“It was a long time ago. He didn’t have quite as big a stick up his ass back then.” Qrow spoke, and Clover laughed, surprising Qrow.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Clover commented as they continued to walk, finishing off their dinner as they went, sitting down at a nearby bench after they threw the noodle boxes in the trash. Qrow reclined back, relaxing his arms against the back of the bench as Clover sat beside him, looking him over.

“Why’d you ask me to come out with you?” Qrow asked, eyes shifting over, his pale red meeting Clover’s teal.

“I thought you needed a break. You’ve been running yourself ragged lately, and you’ve been avoiding working with people, even me.” Clover’s words oozed sincerity, and he chose to ignore it, standing up.

“I’m used to working alone. I’m not avoiding anyone; I’m just being myself.” Qrow said with a light shrug, turning to Clover. His Semblance flared, and his foot caught the edge of the bench, pushing him off balance. The second fall in one day, his luck was definitely getting worse. Clover’s luck was the perfect counterbalance.

The Ace Operative stood and managed to slip his arm around Qrow’s waist, stopping his embarrassing descent, the other arm sliding around his shoulders. Qrow gazed up at him quietly, catching the intensity in Clover’s eyes.

“Are you alright?” He asked, carefully pulling Qrow up into a standing position. Qrow could feeling his hands linger, one on his hip, the other gripped against his bicep.

“All thanks to you.” Qrow smiled a little, brushing the Huntsman off lightly. “I should go. It’s late, and I have another job tomorrow morning.” He could see Clover reacting before he’d even finished speaking, a complaint bubbling up, a protest. Qrow cupped Clover’s face, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Qrow, I-“ He didn’t let Clover finish, turning on his heel, starting to walk away.

“I’ll give you a call, you can buy me lunch.” Every fibre of his being screamed as he put one foot out in front of the other. Go back. Accept that he wants to help. Accept that he’s nice to you. Accept him.

He kept moving. They always had tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read! Kudos and comments are welcome, and I hope you all enjoy c:


	2. Hard Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter two! Hope you all enjoy!

Qrow’s eyes scanned the horizon, the hubbub of the briefing room roaring off to the left of him. He could practically feel the bags under his eyes, he’d been throwing himself into his missions as of late, barely having enough time for anything else. It had been two days since his job at the Snowbound Forest, since his awkward night with Clover. Despite it, they’d somehow managed to grow closer after their casual dinner, Clover would often check up on him, and they had managed to meet a few times for food, and to talk. It was mostly Clover doing the talking, while Qrow would listen, offering up paltry excuses for small talk.

After letting slip that he and Ironwood had been a thing so many years ago, there was a slight shift in their dynamic. Qrow felt the need to clam up, still uncomfortable with letting someone into his life so quickly. Clover, in a similar vein, seemed less flirtatious, almost as if he was treating Qrow like he was made of glass, afraid to push too hard.

Qrow would have had to be blind to miss Clover’s words, his hints, subtle as they were, so it was easy to spot when they started to dry up.

“Qrow?” Speak of the devil. He glanced away from the window, almost sad to tear his eyes away from the beauty of Atlas covered in glowing sunshine. Another beauty took its place, Clover was stood at the screen detailing various jobs designed for Huntsmen and Huntresses. “Briefing is all done, you’re free to go.”

Qrow glanced around the room, noting that everyone had already left. He could attempt to guess at what each of the others had been assigned, but he truly hadn’t been listening. “Uh, right.” He stood up out of his seat, clearing his throat. “You wanna get some lunch later?” He offered, pretty lame in his delivery as he tucked his hands in his pockets.

“I’m gonna be swamped with work, how about dinner?” Clover asked, giving a small smile as he plucked his Scroll out of his pocket, skimming through alerts on the screen.

Qrow was tempted to just ask for a rain check, to find a way out of it, even though he was the one who’d requested they spend some time together. The initial rejection, plus the daunting prospect of waiting for Clover for the rest of the day made his stomach drop. He was still trying to tell himself that he didn’t like Clover as much as he did, that he was just one of Ironwood’s agents, and that’s all. He forced a smile onto his face. “Sure, I ain’t got a job today, so I’ll see you when I see ya, alright?” He backed towards the door before hearing it slide open.

“Oh, Qrow. Good to see you.” James Ironwood, of course. He was starting to feel like his Semblance was working overdrive. He turned to face the General, nodding.

“You too Jimmy.” He didn’t mean to be abrupt, though at this point, it was becoming his trademark so maybe there was no need to fight it. “I should get going.”

“Wait, how are you settling in?” Ironwood swivelled to follow him, and he could feel the General’s eyes on him. He sighed under his breath and turned to look at James. Behind him, he caught a momentary glimpse of Clover, his face covered in a very specific emotion he knew far too well. Jealousy. And he knew it wasn’t for him.

“You’ve given me a nice room and a chance to get back to work. I’m settling in great. We should speak later.” He did his best to get out of the situation, his words honeyed and kind so he could make his escape. Ironwood seemed to relent, nodding to him as he turned to Clover, delving into some sort of military jargon that Qrow didn’t care to decipher. He let the door shut behind him as he made his way through the halls, navigating his way back to the wing of the school where the quarters for professors was located.

Once he was back comfortably in his room, he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He’d been on back to back missions for the past few days, early briefings and a few rough night’s sleep were starting to catch up to him. He undid the buttons of his shirt, shrugging it off before kicking off his boots. With a day off, he was determined to try and catch up with some sleep. Unzipping his jeans, he slid out of them before diving onto the bed. Considering how comfortable the bed was, he shouldn’t have been surprised that he immediately fell asleep.

He was roused from his slumber about two hours after he’d managed to fall asleep, his Scroll buzzing incessantly on his bedside table. He reached over haphazardly, hand slapping down against the sleek white table until he’d found his scroll. It was Clover’s image that greeted him, a message icon blinking next to him.

_“I’ll be done with work sooner than expected. Can I come round?”_ Qrow was too tired to question, and far too tired to refuse.

_“Sure, doors open.”_ He didn’t even wait for the reply, his head hitting the pillow with a silent thud, eyes shut as he almost immediately fell back into the clutches of sleep. Another hour or so passed when he was woken next, looking around blearily as he pushed himself up off the bed with his hands. He could’ve sworn he’d heard a noise, loud enough that it woke him. In his sleep, he’d managed to curl his legs around some of the bedding, looking around the room in confusion.

“Qrow? Are you here?” Clover’s voice drifted down the small hallway between the bedroom and his living quarters, before he appeared at the door. “Oh, you are. Sorry.” He said, the chuckle that escaped him seemed forced as he looked away. Qrow rolled onto his back, flopping back with a tired groan before sitting up, the covers managing to hide him from view a bit better than his previous position.

“It’s fine, I was just real tired. I’ll come through in a minute.” He said, gesturing down the corridor as he clambered out of bed, watching Clover nod and retreat back through to the living quarters. Qrow slipped out of his underwear, kicking them off before getting dressed properly, a pair of well-fitting black slacks and a plain white shirt, knowing he wouldn’t need his Huntsman gear for today. Once he was dressed, he trod through to the living quarters.

Clover was stood by the refrigerator, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He hadn’t seen Clover this stressed before. His eyes lingered on the bottle of whiskey, hands balling into fists. When they arrived, Ironwood had his room made up, leaving a bottle of Atlas’ finest whiskey for him, not aware of his sobriety. In the weeks he’d been in Atlas, he hadn’t taken a single drink, and the pristine lid keeping the bottle sealed had come to symbolise his sobriety. Clover turned to look at him, and based on his reaction, Qrow must have looked pissed. “Shit, I uh, I didn’t even think.” Clover didn’t tend to curse, never seemed right coming out of his mouth. He stopped pouring, and Qrow could see his hands loosen their grip, as if he were about to drop it in guilt.

Qrow reined in the emotions he must have been showing on his face, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. It was going to waste anyway; someone might as well drink it.” Qrow did his best to keep his voice level, blasé in his words as he crossed the room to the small kitchenette, moving around the counter Clover was stood at, stopping at the sink to get himself a drink of water.

“Still, I should’ve at least asked.” Clover murmured, before finishing pouring the drink. He sealed it back up and set it aside, popping some ice cubes into his glass. He turned to face Qrow, and in his eyes, Qrow could see something, a conflict.

“Your job today, stressful?” He asked, gesturing towards Clover himself and the glass of whiskey he was currently cradling in his hands.

“More logistics for the communications tower, and a trip through the tundra to deliver supplies.” He said, taking a sip of his drink. He leaned back against the counter as he watched Qrow. Feeling the other man’s eyes on him caused him to finish off his drink quickly, turning to face Clover.

“That sounds rough, things are definitely ramping up.” Qrow agreed. Their eyes locked, before a long pause drew out. Clover set his glass down, sighing. “You clearly want to say something. Say it.”

Qrow cleared his throat, standing up properly. “How long have you liked him? Ironwood, I mean.” Qrow was fairly straightforward in his words, ignoring Clover’s sputtering at the idea.

“I don’t _like_ the General.” Clover spoke indignantly as he set his glass down against the counter.

“Lying to me is fine, don’t lie to yourself.” Qrow murmured as he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m not lying. I’m sorry you mistake loyalty for attraction.” Clover’s words had a bite to them, almost vitriolic as he looked at Qrow.

“So… He doesn’t even look at you twice, does he?” Qrow asked. There was a certain sadness to Qrow’s words, memories long buried. He could see that sadness, the hurt in Clover’s eyes as he looked away, pouring some more whiskey into his glass.

“I’ve never told him, why would he? I’m an ace operative, I don’t have time for a social life, let alone a lover. Let alone a general.” Clover threw back the drink before setting his glass down against the counter again, staring hard at Qrow. He could see tears, prickling at the corners of his friend’s eyes. He’d never seen Clover like this, the anger, the sadness, the things he must keep buried so deep.

Qrow pushed off from the side of the counter, and approached cautiously, as if Clover would lash out. He knew he wouldn’t. He wrapped his arms securely around Clover’s waist with one hand, the other snaking around his chest as he pulled him in close, holding him against his chest. He could feel Clover struggle for a moment before melting against his grasp, quiet sobs escaping him. For the past few weeks, no matter how much he tried to deny it, Clover had supported him, emotionally foremost. It felt so strange to be the one doing the supporting. “It’s okay, Clover. It’s okay.”

As the sobs wracked the brunet’s body, Qrow thought on his own experiences. He couldn’t help but emphasize with Clover’s pain, he’d been through it himself, and had to grow through that pain.

He remembered Ozpin, the immortal man that gave him so much.

The immortal man that he pledged his life to, in that life and in any other that may come.

The immortal man, who didn’t spare him a second thought.

With his Semblance, he never really felt that surprised that he had fallen in love with an immortal being that would resurrect for the rest of time and didn’t show him any real interest other than as a piece on a chessboard. It was just another page in the long book of his misfortunes.

He could feel Clover calm as he pulled away, wiping at his eyes. Even tearstained and sniffling, Clover was beautiful, his eyes practically glistening with tears, the teal-green gazing out at him. Qrow carefully lifted his hand, cupping the soldier’s cheek with one hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m fine.” Clover assured, though his hands moved up to grasp at his wrist and hand, as if he were craving the contact.

“You always tell me it’s okay to not be okay.” Qrow pointed out, a ghost of a smile on his face as Clover let out a half gasp half chuckle, shaking his head.

“Quit trying to use my teachings against me.” Clover said, though his smile showed he wasn’t so offended by the wisdom.

“All my philosophical teachings are kinda shit so…” He hummed, chuckling to himself as he pulled his hand away from Clover’s face. Clover’s hand kept hold as he dropped his hand down between them, feeling Clover’s hands, surprisingly not calloused and warm, squeezing gently.

“You’re better than you think.” He watched as Clover leaned in closer, felt himself moving in response. It was as if time slowed, and the room went quiet, his only focus being the Huntsman in front of him. Then he felt the buzz of a Scroll, Clover’s, buzzing against his leg. The world came crashing back into focus as he felt Clover pull away, tugging the Scroll out of his pocket, the vague muttering of annoyance coming from him as Qrow shuffled back against the counter.

After a few moments of hushed conversation, Clover turned to face him.

“Work?” Qrow asked.

“When isn’t it?” Clover responded as he put the Scroll away, clearing his throat. “Could I come back later? Maybe we could actually have some dinner.” He offered, a hint of desperation in his voice. It almost floored Qrow, to hear someone so earnestly _want_ to be in his company.

“Of course. I’ll be here.” Qrow assured. Clover apologized again, giving Qrow a reaffirming squeeze to the shoulder before heading outside.

Qrow let out a long sigh as he was left alone, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Watching Clover leave, with so much unsaid, so much not done, it almost hurt. He willed himself forward, turning the television on as he dropped onto the couch, getting comfortable. Knowing that Clover wouldn’t be around for ages, he thought catching up on some sleep would be his best bet. He undid some of his shirt buttons as he lay down on his side, eyes drifting closed as he thought of Clover.

By the time he woke, the sun was starting to wane on the horizon, burnished light stretching across the tundra towards Atlas. Based on that, it was late afternoon, early evening. He sat up on the couch, rubbing at his eyes as his Scroll buzzed, the small device clattering against the bedside table through in the next room. He pushed himself up off the couch, pressing his hands to the small of his back, pushing his hips outwards as he stretched, a lazy groan annoyance escaping him as he moved into the bedroom, scooping his Scroll up off the bedside table.

The screen slid open, lighting up to show a message flashing by Clover’s symbol. He tapped the picture, looking over the short message, mildly surprised when he was met with a picture of Clover. Going by the background of the picture, he was back in Atlas, walking through one of the streets far below the academy, holding up a bag of what he assumed was food. Clover’s face was covered in a jovial grin as he showed off his choice of dinner, wearing a black tank top, keeping in theme with his sleeveless lifestyle.

Beneath the picture, a small message. “ _Better be decent this time, I’m not waiting for you to get dressed before I dig into this._ ” Qrow felt a smile tugging at his lips. He was half tempted to strip down to his underwear just to spite the other man, though he imagined that Clover would just find it funny. He tapped away a hasty response.

“ _My room, my rules._ ” He responded, ambiguous enough as he made his way back through to the rest of the room. He thought about the fact that Clover was coming with food in tow, and suddenly realized he hadn’t eaten a single thing the entire day. His stomach grumbled, so he flopped down onto the couch, resting his head back as he stared up at the ceiling. The news continued on in the background as he waited. It was almost ten minutes before the knock at the door rung out, and a moment later, swung open, Clover bustling in over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Hey, you managed to not be naked.” Clover said, grinning as he set the bag down on the table, moving to the kitchen to gather up some cutlery. Qrow didn’t respond, only rolled his eyes as he leaned in, taking a peek inside the bag, the scent of hot food assaulting his senses immediately. Before Clover could come back, he tugged the first box out of the plastic carrier bag, opening it up. The small cardboard container was warm to the touch, the smell of food deep fried getting released. Sat atop a pile of golden chips coated in salt, a fillet of crispy fish, fried in the perfect batter. He set the box in his lap, tearing a chunk of batter crusted fish with his fingers, eating it quickly.

“Holy fuck, that might be the nicest thing I’ve ever eaten.” He managed between bites, the crispy batter hardly disguising his eating.

“Hey! Don’t go eating mine too!” Clover called over, returning with a pair of forks and knives, alongside two glasses of water. He set the glasses down first, then passed the cutlery to Qrow, a snicker escaping as he saw the Huntsman voraciously devouring the food, picking apart the food with his hands.

“This kinda takeout works with your hands.” Qrow defended, covering his mouth as he spoke to keep some form of politeness to him. He quickly, absentmindedly, licked some of the batter grease from his fingers before thanking Clover for the glass, taking a sip.

“Uh, no worries.” Clover managed, seeming to only just realize he’d been spoken to. Qrow missed the lingering eyes as he set his glass aside, turning to focus himself on Clover.

“So, what’d you get dragged off to do?” He asked, starting on his chips instead, feeling they were a bit less messy.

“Oh, nothing too exciting. The General wanted my help with some logistics for the tower, pretty much what I was doing earlier today but with some help from the General.” Clover explained, jabbing his fork down into the fish, tearing it apart with ease, the flaky white flesh perfectly cooked.

“More like breathing down your neck.” Qrow commented lazily. He expected a rebuttal, a loyal defence, but instead, Clover smiled, a soft chuckle following as he ate some of his fish.

“Can’t deny that. He’s been manic lately; I think he needs a break just as much as the teams do.” Clover admitted, a sense of worriment perfectly clear in his voice. To most, that would just be Clover and his empathy, but Qrow knew it better than that, knew Clover better than that.

“Once the tower goes up, a break is the last thing he’ll manage to find.” Qrow commented. He still wasn’t totally on board with the plan to reveal Salem to the world, even after Ozpin abandoned them in the snow after Jinn revealed his secrets, he felt some remnant of loyalty to the enigmatic immortal.

“The difficult choices are often the ones that need to be made.” Clover said quietly, but he didn’t hear Clover, he heard Ironwood. He watched quietly before offering up a simple nod, continuing with his food. Silence fell between them as they ate dinner, both seeming like they were unwilling to linger on the topic too much.

Once he’d finished off his food, Qrow rose from his seat, taking his glass with him. “Want another drink?” He asked as he moved through to the kitchen. He heard the gentle clatter of cutlery on the sleek low table, indicating that Clover was done too.

“Sure, I shouldn’t stick around too long though, I’ve got a long day tomorrow, and I think you do too.” Clover said with a light chuckle, carrying his box through to Qrow. Qrow knew he was right, one day off was about as good as he was going to get, the election was only three days away and things were only going to get busier.

“That’s fine.” Qrow assured, turning to hand Clover a freshly filled glass of water. The brunet accepted the glass, taking a sip. Qrow locked eyes with Clover, feeling the urge to talk to him, to talk about earlier. The ace operative set the glass down, and if Qrow wasn’t mistaken, he saw his eyes flick down to his opened shirt a few times.

“In fact, I think I’ll go now. I…” He paused, frowning a little as he moved forward, pulling Qrow into a quick hug. “Thanks for earlier, just uh, keep it to yourself, okay?” Clover asked, pressing his face into the crook of Qrow’s neck. Qrow nodded quietly, before realizing that Clover couldn’t actually see him right now.

“I won’t tell anyone Clover, I promise.” Qrow murmured, looping his arms around his shoulders. He held him tight, sighing softly. He pulled back a little, nudging Clover’s chin up, offering him a smile. “Next time we talk, I’ll try not to make you cry, okay?” He asked.

Clover scoffed, shaking his head a little, a sly smile appearing on his face. “I’ll hold you to that, alright?” He untangled himself from Qrow’s touch, surprising the black-haired man as he leant in. Qrow was about to protest when he felt Clover’s soft lips against cheek. He remembered back to their first dinner down in Atlas, the fact he’d kissed the other man’s cheek. As Clover walked away, he reached up to touch two fingers to his cheek, where Clover’s lips had just been. “See you tomorrow Qrow.” His voice was accompanied by the click of the door, leaving Qrow alone.

He glanced outside the window that looked in on the kitchen, the orange glow hitting his face as he watched Atlas from high upon the academy. “See you.” He murmured, sighing to himself. Maybe tomorrow he’d let him in properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward Qrow and sad unrequited Clover. I really like the idea of both of them having people in their lives that they've fallen for and just been ignored by, Qrow chalks it up to his Semblance, while Clover's lifestyle and fears keep him isolated from the one he loves.


	3. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has NOT been abandoned, I swear. I've been recently inundated with inspiration for other fics, and I'm currently wrapping up a long standing one, and unfortunately this just fell to the wayside. I will be continuing it, likely slowly, while I figure out exactly what I want to happen in the fic.

“Where the hell did you find the time to learn how to sew?” Qrow’s voice was laced with amusement as he skimmed his eyes over the cards cradled protectively in his hands.

“Marrow tears his uniform at least once every fortnight.” Clover’s voice was deadpan as he stitched a particularly nasty gash across the chest of Qrow’s shirt. A nest of particularly territorial Griffon had taken route on the peak of the more mountainous area near the abandoned Schnee Dust Company mine that was in the process of being used to launch the communications tower. The Ace Ops were designated to the job, Marrow, Vine and Harriet working around the base of the range while Elm, Clover, and Qrow took to the peak to ensure they would exterminate the nest.

“The tail?” Qrow asked, chuckling as he picked out two of his cards.

“Yup.” Clover said, grinning as he picked out his own two cards, splaying them out. “How’d I do?” He quizzed, going back to sewing.

“Ugh, fuck you.” Qrow grumbled, swiping up his hand and Clover’s going back to shuffling the deck as the Ace Operative smiled wider, finishing off his stitches.

“I really don’t know why you keep demanding we play this. It’s been what, a month?” Clover asked, his confidence and amusement could have been misread for arrogance, but despite Qrow’s refusal to give up on winning a hand, and getting steadily grumpier each time Clover beat him, the brunet would never turn down the chance to play.

“I _will_ beat you one of these days.” Qrow spoke defiantly as he dealt out their respective hands.

“Like, at the game? Or with your scythe? I can tell you which one sounds more likely.” Clover’s smile grew as Qrow flipped him off, settling into the couch across from Clover.

“Alright seamstress, less trash talk, more playing the game.” Qrow grumbled as he looked over his hand.

“You really hate losing.” Clover folded the shirt, before picking up his hand. “Case and point, your poor shirt. Where’d you put the vest?” Clover asked. Qrow turned, wincing a little. Across his chest, three thin grazes dug into his chest. He wasn’t in much pain, other than some mild discomfort and stinging when he moved, thankful at least that the wounds were superficial.

“Just over there.” He gestured towards the small island splitting the kitchenette apart from the main living area, where the recently washed black vest was sat, clean of the blood that had been spilled, also covered in some nasty gashes.

Clover scooped his cards up as he moved over to the island, looking over the fabric with a frown. “It got you good.” Clover murmured, eyes lingering on the shreds in the vest. “If you’d gone alone…”

“But I didn’t.” Qrow knew it wasn’t much of a reassurance, but it was all he had, Clover was right.

“This time.” He returned to his seat, splaying his hand out on the coffee table. Qrow cursed under his breath, folding as he collected the cards, letting clover get started on the repair work.

The silence that fell between them wasn’t uncomfortable, just tense. As if they both wanted to say something, as if whatever they would say would bring about an argument neither wanted to see.

As the team atop the mountain began their assault on the flock of Griffon that had found a roost among the snow-capped peaks, their fight was made infinitely harder by the inclusion of Manticore. A particularly large pair of the Grimm were working together with the Griffon during the battle, frightfully synchronised as they fought Qrow and the other ace operatives. The horde of Griffon were far faster than usual, and particularly aggressive. With no real range on their side, Qrow, Elm and Clover were firmly on the defensive, watching each other’s backs as they tried to whittle down their numbers, avoiding the ire of the Manticore duo as they went. Qrow was forced to contend with one of the Manticore, and in his continued run of bad luck, he’d let his Aura run dangerously low. An unseen sweep from one of the remaining Griffon that circled above was enough to shatter his defences.

With Qrow knocked down and exposed to the Solitas weather, he wasn’t much use in the fight, using Harbinger to shoot any Griffon that drew too close. Elm and Clover managed to get the situation under control and get Qrow to safety in the transport. With his wounds being manageable, they weren’t too worried. That being said, they made their way back to Atlas as quickly as possible, and Qrow was checked over by a doctor immediately.

“You know that I appreciate you being there, all of you.” Qrow broke the silence, lifting his eyes from their sullen focus on the cards clutched in his fingers. As he had begun to speak, Clover had looked to him, teal green, worry manifest, staring him down. He swallowed down his worry, refusing to break the gaze. “Don’t you?” Qrow’s words wavered with doubt as Clover’s features softened.

“Of course. It’s just hard to tell sometimes.” Clover said softly. Their discussion yesterday weighed heavily in Qrow’s mind, Clover’s sobbing was something he never wanted to hear again, the pain was palpable, and it instilled in the raven-haired man, an undeniable urge to protect Clover. It was maddening, considering Clover was an excellent fighter. He couldn’t protect him from emotion, from heartbreak.

“I know I’m not the best at conveying how I’m feeling, and I’m sorry about that.” Clover looked like he was about to protest, but Qrow continued onwards. “But I do appreciate you Clover, more so than I appreciate anyone up here in Atlas. You’re the one I trust with everything.” Qrow said quietly, clearing his throat as he finally looked away, instead picking through his cards.

Clover was quiet for a few moments, no doubt processing the words, picking out the right response. Qrow was similarly tentative about his choice of words, but usually out of a fear of saying something wrong. Even his little speech to Clover was careful, not giving too much away, vague enough to ensure he was safe from falling too deep.

“Qrow. I don’t spend all this time with you, expecting some sort of pay off. You don’t have to tell me your deepest darkest secrets, and you don’t have to change who you are, I like you fine as you are.” Clover’s words were careful and tactful, his smile simply sincere, the usual charm and hinting replaced by a sense of warmth, as if Qrow could curl up and sleep, protected only by the radiance of Clover’s kindness. “All I want from you is your promise that you’ll lean on me if you need me. I can’t force you to accept my help, I just hope you’ll accept it.” Clover lay his hand of cards down on the coffee table. “That is, if I don’t keep kicking your ass at cards.”

Qrow would have had a hard time stopping himself from crying if not for Clover’s teasing, his kindness was something he had never really encountered, someone so willing to be there for him. After Team STRQ fell apart, he lost contact with his sister, for good reason, Summer was gone, and Taiyang was never really the same. Ozpin was his boss, Ironwood was a confidante at worst, a close friend at best, but still, they had their reservations of each other. He was sure Glynda only put up with him because Ozpin did, and Winter would likely cut his throat given the order.

Qrow tossed his cards on the table, sighing. “That might just be the thing that ruins our friendship.” Qrow drawled out, hiding behind his humour as he smiled, leaning back into his chair. He winced a little, reaching up to gently press against his chest, feeling the subtle scars through his open shirt and bandages wrapped around his midsection, then looped over his shoulder. He assured the doctor that the scratches didn’t hurt too badly, so a thin layer of the bandages was all that was needed.

“I really do my best to go easy on you Qrow, I don’t get how you always lose.” Clover said with barely contained amusement, gathering up their discarded hands, shuffling the deck with ease.

“Other than the obvious answer?” Qrow quizzed, catching the small smile that tugged at Clover’s lips as he reclined back into his seat, fingers moving almost indecipherably quickly, the cards dancing around in his grasp, before Clover handed them out.

“No point in focusing on the obvious.” Clover teased, clutching the cards carefully. Another stretch of silence spread between them as they continued to play their card game, Clover becoming steadily cockier, while Qrow became steadily grumpier. He really was embarrassingly bad at the game, his piss poor luck not included. Qrow thought quietly for a moment, before deciding it needed to be done.

“How’s James feeling about the election?” Qrow had been all but ready to never bring up Ironwood in Clover’s presence, he’d avoided the topic this morning, and on their mission, but the more he avoided the topic, the more it just felt too awkward. Clover was a professional, and despite his tears yesterday, he knew he had likely pushed past it all, or at the very least, buried it down.

“Stressed, I think. But Robyn has the best platform, even some people in Atlas like her.” Clover’s words were analytical, not compassionate. That compassion was there, just smothered by Clover’s professionalism. It was reassuring to know, it made him less worried, that was for sure.

“I know _I’d_ vote for her, criminal behaviour or not.” Qrow said, referencing the run in they’d had with the Huntress out in the tundra. He didn’t particularly like Robyn Hill, for what it was worth. He didn’t know her, but his only real run in told him she was pig-headed. In some ways, she reminded him of Ruby, just a bit more extreme. Despite all of that, she was earnest, and she was driven to fix things, to make Mantle a better place to live for the people under Atlas. He could relate.

“You hippy.” Clover commented, laying his hand down.

“Guilty.” Qrow responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he lay his hand down. Another crushing defeat. He grumbled, gathering up their cards.

“Alright, I’m making the executive decision to cut you off. No more cards.” Clover’s tone was stern, though his smile wasn’t. In a way, Qrow had expected his own emotions to flare, the joke styled so closely to an addiction that he could feel irrationality itch at the edges of his mind. His clarity pushed past, knowing Clover would never make that kind of joke so lightly.

“You Atlas elites, always telling us what we can and can’t do.” Qrow’s smile mirrored Clover’s as he conceded, handing over the deck of cards. Clover wasn’t technically supposed to be there, after Qrow’s superficial injury during their mission, he was signed off for the rest of the day until his Aura healed up his wounds. Clover had assured the doctor he would make certain that Qrow would stay put, but with every passing hour, the messages to Clover’s Scroll became more frantic. With the election looming, tensions in the city were high, it was one of the reasons that the Griffon nest had become such an issue.

“I’m in charge, doctor’s orders.” Clover breezed past the implications as Qrow tripped over every single thought that passed thanks to those words. He cleared his throat, leaning back into the couch, rubbing at his bandaged wounds gently. His Aura was already healing up the shallow gashes, much to his relief.

“Technically, the doctor told me to get rest and no work. You’ve kept me from rest, and getting my ass kicked in cards sure feels like work. You’re a bad influence.” Qrow pointed out, grinning a little as he caught a hint of a pout on Clover’s lips before he stood.

“Well, I see I’m not welcome here, I’ll have to tell the doctor that you’ve managed all by yourself.” Humour was evident in Clover’s voice as he crossed over to the door.

“You sure you’re not just running off to do your duty for Atlas?” Qrow asked, grinning as he pushed up off the couch, scooping his shirt up off the other seat where Clover had left it, inspecting the stitching. It was perfect honestly, he couldn’t complain. If he did, he’d probably just be told to buy a new one.

“Some of us are actually fit for duty.” Clover shot back, stopping to lean against the door. Qrow chuckled, setting the shirt down.

“So, what do I owe you? I assume you have Marrow on tab at this point.” Qrow quizzed, walking over to the door, deciding to be a gracious host for once and escort Clover out, maybe even open the door for him once he moved off of it. A real gentleman.

“Uh, not a thing. Glad to help, remember.” It had taken Clover a moment to respond, seeming to weigh up his words in his head before going with what he said.

“Not even dinner?” Qrow asked, and Clover let out a light chuckle.

“It was your turn to pay anyway, you don’t get to turn this into you paying off a debt.” Clover pointed out, pushing off from the door as Qrow reached him. For a moment, they were a touch too close. Clover sidestepped, giving Qrow the option to open the door.

“Guess I’ll have to figure something else out.” Qrow kept it purposefully vague, eyes lingering on Clover. It was an experiment, pure curiosity. The bloom of red on Clover’s cheeks, the gears turning in his head. Qrow smiled, opening up the door.

“Just go get some rest, that’s all you owe me.” Clover said, his Scroll buzzing aggressively for the eight time in the past half an hour. He sighed, nodding to the door. “Duty calls.” He said. He took a step, and before he could really stop himself, he reached out, grasping Clover’s wrist.

As Clover turned to face him, he leant in. A chaste kiss, soft and quick, before he pulled back. “If you’ve got work tomorrow night, just be careful. You’re right about everyone getting crazy over election night.” He agreed, managing a small smile.

Clover’s sheer shock was fair, Qrow couldn’t exactly judge him for that. Slowly, the brunet smiled, stepping back in the door, gathering Qrow up into a quick hug. Qrow’s cheeks took on a similar hue to Clover’s, hoping he’d get the last laugh when it came to their exchange of feelings. Clover pulled away, brushing their lips together. There was more feeling there that time, less shock. “I’ll be careful.”

The last glimpse he got of Clover was his smiling face retreating down the corridor, leaving him stood there. He reached up, brushing his lips. He was smiling like a damn fool. Clover knew how awkward Qrow had been about anything to do with emotion when they first met, anything that opened him up to hurt. His semblance was a constant source of that potential pain.

He swallowed down thickly, closing the door shut behind himself. He sighed, leaning back against the door. He couldn’t fight the smile plastered to his face, much to his chagrin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A kiss! After like two months, we all deserve it. The chapter is much shorter than usual just so I can get something out there and clear my head. Like I said before, this will continue, I just need to figure out how. For now, thanks to everyone who's left me a comment and kudos, they've definitely helped my drive to keep writing this!


	4. Patrol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as long a turn around on this one, thankfully! My DQ fic has been properly finished up and now I've got much more time to dedicated to sad uncle and bicep boy!

The wind buffeting around him was all he could really perceive, beady black eyes scanning the roads and alleys that carved their way through Mantle, like an intricate relief chiselled into stone. Ironwood always told him off for patrolling like this, but even he couldn’t deny the efficiency, he could cover more ground than Ruby or even Hare, in half the time. In all his years, he’d never have expected to find himself patrolling the city below Atlas, especially to help out James Ironwood of all people. He didn’t hate the general, of course, he just distinctly remembered a passing comment to Ironwood himself, so long ago. ‘ _If I was one of your men, I'd shoot myself._ ’

He swooped down through the sky, landing atop a low rooftop, quickly shifting back to his regular form. The earpiece buzzed to life in his ear, Clover’s voice filtering in.

“Qrow, sound off.” His voice wasn’t frantic, just mildly annoyed. Thinking back, he’d never have expected to find himself so close to one of Ironwood’s favourites either. He smiled to himself, approaching the edge of the roof, kneeling down to peer over the edge.

“You know, being clingy isn’t that cute.” Qrow’s voice was far too playful for his own good, it was definitely going to come back to bite him in the ass.

“This is an official channel.” If Clover was blushing, he didn’t let it slip in how he spoke.

“Relax, I’m near the southern gate. Everything’s looking clear for now.” Qrow spoke casually as he hopped down from his vantage point, straightening back up as he made his way down the street.

“Thanks for offering to help out, you could’ve had time off with the others. You said Ruby was going to a party?” Clover asked.

“This is an official channel.” Qrow responded, grin absolutely audible in his words. There was a crackle of activity, before silence. He snorted, tapping his ear. “Come on, that was funny and you know it.” More silence. After about a minute of Qrow’s uneven humming, assaulting Clover’s senses unless he had the good sense to remove the earpiece, he heard him again.

“You’re an ass.” Clover’s voice was flat, exasperation played up for the purpose of making Qrow laugh, and he did.

“Ruby’s heading to Robyn’s ‘victory party’ with Ren and Nora.” Qrow put clear emphasis on the idea that it was a victory party, putting them between air quotation marks as if Clover could see him.

“She always was confident.” Clover remarked dryly, the subtle splash of water picking up on the microphone, followed by an even subtler curse. Puddle. Not always lucky then, Qrow noted.

“Yang and Blake are going dancing with some academy kids, and I think Oz is off to the movies with…” He grasped for names, trying to place the kids in his head. “Whoever’s left.” Qrow was fairly distracted, eyes peering down a dimly lit alley. He could’ve sworn he’d seen something.

“That would be Weiss and Jaune, excellent guardianship.” Clover commented. Qrow took a step into the alley before a shadow launched itself at his feet. The hissing cry of a stray cat shocked him out of his skin, watching as the feral fleabag went charging off down the street. His alarmed yell must have been enough to pick up. “Qrow?” Clover asked.

“Fucking cat.” He grumbled in response, hearing a snicker of amusement. “Shut it.” Exasperation bled through as Clover’s snickers grew louder.

“I’m sorry.” Insincerity incarnate.

“Liar.” Qrow muttered, chuckling to himself.

“Do you think cats hate you because you’re a bird?” Clover asked. It was almost cute, boundless curiosity bundled into what sounded like a joke, but he could tell Clover actually wondered if that was a reason.

“Y’know, that might be true, they never used to hate me back when I was learning at Beacon.” He commented, smiling a little. His mind drifted back to Yang, her words when they’d all been reunited in Mistral. Her accusatory words towards Ozpin, _what you did to Qrow and my mother_. He never really viewed Ozpin’s gift as a burden. It came with the duties he would be doing for Ozpin either way, this made his life easier.

For the most part.

“I don’t think we’ve ever talked about that, what was your time at Beacon like?” He and Clover were around the same age, it was logical that they’d discuss their respective times as fledgling Huntsmen at some point.

“Uh, weird, I guess. My sister and I were raised outside of the kingdoms, so going to an academy was an interesting experience.” Qrow spoke easily, casually, despite the panic churning in his gut. It wasn’t exactly the most personal information; it was just the fact that he was so _willing_ to part with it.

“That must have been a rough first day.” Clover’s words had a hint of humour to them, but the sympathy shone through easier. Qrow scoffed a little, not in mean spirits, more of a ‘no shit you doofus’ kind of scoff.

“What about you? Please tell me they gave you a prefects outfit?” Qrow asked.

“You know the academies don’t have prefects, Qrow.” Clover deadpanned.

“Head boy?” He asked, really milking his supposed lack of knowledge about Atlas Academy.

“I don’t know why I put up with you.” Clover grumbled.

“Well it’s clearly not my dashing good looks, so I’m as stumped as you are.” Qrow replied with a chuckle, hearing Clover snort as he tried to cover up his laughter.

“We should get back to patrols.” Clover pointed out.

“What, you don’t want me to regale you with the time I wore a skirt to class?” Qrow quizzed, managing to pique Clover’s interest. Before the other Huntsman could speak. Qrow shrugged it off. “That’s fair, I’ll get back to it boss.” He used the term in a strange mix of endearment and mocking as he jogged into a nearby alley, flourishing into the sky on midnight wings after a moment, missing out on Clover’s indignant grumbling.

As he continued to fly through the skies, some hours trailed by, and the gloom of early evening descended into winter darkness. The election results were going to be revealed soon, so Qrow focused himself, sweeping the southern side of Mantle once again before trailing north, keeping to the edges of the city when he knew Clover was roaming the interior.

He touched down in an alley closer to the centre of the city, standing up straight with a quiet grunt. Transforming into a crow was something he’d grown accustomed to, it had been a long time since he was first gifted the power, but it never stopped the vague, phantom ache around his shoulders, specifically in the joints. If he had to guess, flapping his wings was strenuous enough to translate to his real body.

“Qrow? That you?” Clover’s voice came over the earpiece, a welcome change from the wind, or the foreboding quiet of Mantle’s streets.

“Yeah, just touched down. Everything good on your end?” Qrow asked, jogging along to the edge of the alleyway, glancing out. The streets were quieter, not as many people roaming the streets as the dark set in, the glowing orange of Mantle’s heating system illuminating the grunge of the dark paths.

“It’s been quiet, thankfully.” Clover attested. He heard the unfurling of Kingfisher, and the sound of boots on metal. Clover had pulled himself up onto a rooftop by the sounds of it.

“Good to hear.” Qrow said lightly, thankful for that. If anything was going to happen, tonight was the night.

“We should regroup, I’ll check in with Marrow and Penny before things kick off.” Clover said, already preparing to get in touch with the Faunus in question.

“Got it, on my way.” Qrow spoke quickly, before jogging through the quiet streets. It didn’t take him long to find Clover, leaning against a large sign atop one of the larger warehouse style buildings, obscured from the world below. As he scaled the wall, he heard the tapering end of a conversation.

“Alright Marrow, stay safe.” Clover severed the connection between himself and his teammate, turning when he heard the clambering. His training clearly kicked in, based solely on the stance he took. He visibly relaxed when he caught sight of Qrow.

“How are things on his end?” Qrow asked, purely conversationally. He knew that despite Marrow being the less serious of the bunch, he was still an ace operative, and he had no doubt he’d keep things professional, especially with Clover checking in. The fact that Ruby was there was what worried him. She had an uncanny knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wasn’t sure how long she could keep getting lucky and having it all work out.

“The party is pretty busy by his estimates, but nothing too suspicious yet.” Clover said, gesturing him over. Qrow was happy to oblige, reaching his side as Clover slid down to a sitting position. Thankfully, for whatever reason, heaters had been installed on the rooftops, so their backs would be warm from the heat leaking through the rickety sign Clover was reclining against, they’d just have to put up with cold fronts.

“Good news all round then.” Qrow murmured, sliding down to a sitting position, one leg outstretched as the other tucked in, his left arm resting up against his knee. He looked to his right, raising an eyebrow as he caught Clover’s gaze.

Clover cleared his throat, and Qrow was mildly impressed that the other man had staved off a blush. “You were going to tell me about your time in a skirt, if I remember correctly.” He said, smiling over at him.

“Heh, good to know I caught your attention so much.” Qrow hummed, now mildly disappointed he didn’t eke out a blush. He was playing hard to get. “Alright, fair is fair, I brought it up.” Qrow relented, though really didn’t mind bringing the story up. Taiyang tended to bring it up at the drop of a hat, so he didn’t have a choice in being happy to share it most times.

“You don’t _have_ to tell me.” Clover assured.

“And deprive you of some fantasy material? You think I’m that mean?” Qrow asked, smile growing as the faint sight of pink on his cheeks bloomed. That’s better.

“I definitely think you’re mean now.” Clover responded dryly.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll live.” Qrow replied, turning a little so he was facing Clover slightly better. “So, as you know, I grew up outside the kingdoms. Taiyang, thinking this was just the funniest damn thing, tricked me into wearing a skirt, told me it was a kilt.” Qrow began, and to his surprise, he saw Clover’s face shift to one of sympathy, rather than amusement, or pity.

“Seriously? That seems kinda cruel.” Clover commented, though his words weren’t too judgemental. Qrow knew for a fact he’d brought up Taiyang before, and Clover knew he didn’t hold much ill will towards the man. _Much_. Things were still rocky between them, for a variety of issues the length of his arm.

“I didn’t mind so much, my legs looked great.” He said with a soft chuckle, hoping to assuage some of the no-doubt negative thoughts Clover was having about Taiyang. That managed to bring Clover back, a smile on his face to match Qrow’s.

“Yeah? Well you’re all leg, no surprise there.” The joke surprised a laugh out of him, one he couldn’t muffle or hold back. Clover shared in that too, grinning a little. He seemed proud, to manage to get a laugh out of him.

“Jeez, and I thought Taiyang was supposed to be the bully.” He regretted the words as soon as he’d said them, worried it would sober them out of the enjoyable atmosphere too quickly, but instead Clover laughed more, shaking his head. He did seem a bit more pensive after that laugh, but he hadn’t completely ruined the atmosphere. Score one for Qrow, and his complete lack of decorum.

“You said you didn’t mind; guess I can get away with it too.” Clover commented.

“Yeah, well you and Tai are different.” Qrow commented casually.

“In a good way or a bad way?” Clover asked, tone a little less jovial. It was hard to tell if it was curiosity or defensiveness. Time to scrub off the point he’d just given himself.

“Uh, good, definitely good.” Qrow said quickly. “Besides, Tai slept with my sister, of his own volition. He _clearly_ isn’t a great judge of character.”

Clover’s laugh was similar to Qrow’s earlier one, too shocked not to laugh, covering his mouth. Qrow grinned widely at the sight and laughed with him. “I can assure you, there’s no danger of me sleeping with your sister, Qrow.” Clover said, catching his breath as he smiled.

Qrow studied his face, smiling a little. “Can I hazard a guess as to why?” Qrow asked, testing the bounds of their currently unquantifiable relationship.

“ _Other_ than the fact she tried to help Salem and her followers steal a relic from Haven?” Clover asked, raising an eyebrow. Qrow’s heart always skipped a beat when he heard someone else bring up Salem, it had been his burden for so long, something he kept close to his chest when he was away from Ozpin and his group for so long, on recon and anything else that was required of him.

“Other than that.” Qrow confirmed.

“Go ahead.” Clover shrugged.

“You looked like you knew how it felt, to have a little torment in school.” Qrow reasoned, treading lightly. Being bisexual, and being very easily able to hide it when he was young, was a blessing. To the best of his knowledge, sexuality wasn’t really a frowned upon topic on Remnant, at least not in the real world where life was a constant bet on whether or not your kingdoms walls would break down. Teenagers though? Teenagers were evil, the ones he grew up with were anyway. Seeing Yang and Blake filled him with hope for a continuing improvement in the future.

“I prefer guys, that’s no secret.” Clover stated simply. “Some people didn’t like that.” Clover confirmed his suspicions, looking Qrow in the eyes. “Right now, the people that tormented me live safe in their homes, running their missions, because I’m better than them.” It was the first time he’d seen that kind of confidence in Clover. “I pushed myself to always be better than them, it made it really easy to ignore them after that.” Clover said, a hint of a smile on his face.

Qrow hadn’t, in recent memory anyway, been attracted to anyone more, than in that moment.

“I’m impressed.” Was all Qrow could think to say in that moment, trying his damndest to think of something more. Something congratulatory, something proud, something that conveyed just how much that made him like Clover more, but none of it really sounded right in his head.

“Well, it’s all in the past now. I’m happy here.” Clover said with a shrug. It was hard to tell if he was talking about his life now, or where he was sitting right now. He could feel the lingering gaze on him, and he was still struggling to chain words into a coherent sentence.

“Yeah, me too.” Qrow responded. It was as if he’d walked into an imaginary brick wall. What kind of response was that? He glanced to his side, finding it hard to miss the quizzical look on Clover’s face. “Uh, happy here, in Mantle.” It was, without a doubt, the worst lie he’d ever told. He’d talked his way out of bar brawls with more grace, and that was usually under a very thick haze of alcohol.

“As much as I believe you like it here more than Atlas, that was such bullshit.” Clover said, chuckling to himself. It was still strange to hear Clover curse, even after weeks of knowing each other. It was rare in casual conversation, even rarer while on mission.

“I couldn’t really think of what to say.” Qrow defended half-heartedly, scratching the back of his neck. Admitting his loss of words sent Clover’s eyebrows up.

“The great Qrow Branwen, without a quick retort? I’m shocked.” The playfulness oozing out of Clover was yet another log on the fire that was Qrow’s attraction. It was so very much Clover, but the topic, they’d often skirted around. He tended to tease _at_ him, not about him. He couldn’t help but smile.

“You got all intense, I couldn’t help but be intimidated.” Qrow joked, back on form as he pushed himself up off the ground, stretching before dusting anything unwanted from his pants.

Clover looked reluctant to stand, but did so anyway. Enjoying their time together too much? Qrow hoped so anyway. “Uh, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to…” Clover trailed off when Qrow turned, more amused than offended or uncomfortable, their eyes meeting. “Oh, you were messing with me.” Clover said with a sheepish chuckle. His attitude had taken another one-eighty, and now he was being _precious_ of all things. He couldn’t help but find it cute.

“Not exactly, just intimidating wouldn’t be the right word.” Qrow admitted. He really didn’t know why he was skirting around this so much, they’d already kissed. Sure, it was short, and pretty casual, but it’s not like he was very subtle. He seemed to dislike being around everyone other than his nieces, Oscar, and Clover. Family, an immortal entity he’d pledged his life to, and Clover.

“Qrow?” Clover asked. Fuck caution.

Qrow rushed in, so quick it could have been seen as an attack. Could’ve sworn he saw Clover tense defensively before their lips collided. Qrow’s left hand moved to the back of Clover’s neck, other grabbing at his side as he kept him still for a moment, tasting the cold on Clover’s lips. After a moment or so, he pulled back.

“Sorry, uh, not the right time.” Qrow said with a chuckle. Clover’s face was unreadable as he moved to take a step back. Without warning, and much less time to react, Clover had grabbed him by the collar, whirling them around.

Qrow’s back hit the sign, a grunt escaping, before being swallowed up by Clover’s lips. His red eyes stayed wide for a moment, before slipping shut. He snaked an arm around Clover’s shoulder as he felt Clover’s around his waist, secure. He’d half expected to feel claustrophobic, trapped between the wall and Clover’s broad chest, his arms around him so possessively that he was sure alarm bells would be blaring in his head.

The absolute opposite. Qrow melted into the embrace, the kiss a flash of teeth and desperation, as if they couldn’t get close enough despite their chests flush against one another. As they found their rhythm, a light groan rippled free, pressed up against the soft of Clover’s lips.

All he could really hear was the quiet gasps of their breath when the kiss broke momentarily to find new purchase, a new angle. As Clover’s leg slipped between his own, thigh brushing up against him so brazenly, he almost stopped working, arm tightening around his shoulders as his spare hand gripped his bicep.

“Mmf.” Was all he could really discern from Clover, an arm still secure around his waist, the other had trailed up. He’d almost written it off until he felt one of Clover’s hands threading through his hair, a sharp tug sending shockwaves through him. A surprise, no doubt, but he wasn’t complaining. It forced a groan from his lips, their lips only just parted from the tug. Part of it was purely for display, to see how easily it could rile Clover it up. It fucking _worked_.

Then he was painfully aware of his Scroll, buzzing urgently. He was also vaguely aware of Clover’s, alerting in unison. “Fuck.” Qrow snarled quietly, disentangling himself from Clover as the ace operative made a move to retreat. His face was red, lips swollen and perky, eyes glazed over and failing to refocus. He very nearly threw his Scroll of the building, much more interested in making Clover look like that for the rest of the night.

“There was an attack. Robyn’s party.” Any blood travelling south had frozen solid, like shards of ice in his veins. A cold sweat on his brow, sobered immediately. “The kids are fine.” Clover assured quickly, catching the look on Qrow’s face. “I’ll get in touch with Ironwood, can you…?” Before Clover had even finished his sentence, Qrow leapt from the building, soaring into the sky in corvid form.

He hated leaving things like this, but he knew the drill when they started. Attack at a party, or wandering Grimm, they had been on duty. Running, or flying in his case, was easier than getting to Ruby and the others with Clover at his side.

Talking tomorrow morning would be first on his agenda. He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love the idea that Clover pushed himself to excel as a 'fuck you' to people who didn't like him. Poetic justice.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and encouraging comments, you're all wonderful!


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